The Price of Courage
by This.Is.My.Katharsis
Summary: Welcome to Libria post-Prozium, where everyone's trying to learn how to control their emotions without their suppressant. Crimes of passion abound and the city might consume itself. Explores the consequences of standing up for what you believe. JPxOC
1. Chapter 1

Heya! It's the grand return of .roses! ;) So here is my new fic. It's an OCxJohn Preston pairing because all my fics are romances and Mary died. Well, I'm going to work hard to make my OC not the typical MarySue; but we'll see how it turns out. And just so you know: reviews encourage me to write more!

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It was all just another day in Libria.

Since the downfall of the Tetragrammaton the city was undergoing change that sprung up like flowers finally allowed to flourish on a patch of dirt. Almost the entire population had been off the Prozium doses for almost two months, though there were shocking amounts of people who had been stopping their doses for a long time without anyone noticing.

Not everyone was off the dose though. The entire rotating supply could not all be contained and, though the Prozium plants were destroyed, what was in circulation had been as carefully hidden as those who had stopped taking them.

For some it was pure bodily addiction. Some people had, before, had their doses adjusted and upped so many times that the tiniest amount of stress affected their bodies in such ways that there were now clinics trying to ease people into feeling.

For others it was mental addiction. The psychological strain of feeling intense emotion after being able to avoid it for so long was taking its toll on the people. The business of providing therapy, previously unnecessary, was thriving as the people struggled to find a way to control their new emotions.

Prozium was not technically illegal, except for producing or selling it. There were many people who bought it off street corners and waited all week for the perfect time to enjoy a relaxing, numbing twelve hours of emotionless life.

However those were the exceptions. The majority of the population was thriving. As much as they struggled to control what they had so long suppressed there were a thousand new activities to use as outlets for creative energy.

As such, there were many new renovation projects that converted old buildings into park space. There was a significant demand for them and many children could be seen there, getting their first look at flowers and trees.

So, like they did every Sunday, the Jonathan Preston family left the house after breakfast and went to the park.

On Sundays the park was filled with vendors selling what had previously been contraband and it was a lucrative business because no one could seem to get enough of it.

Robbie turned over a paintbrush in his hands, feeling the bristles as he stared into the bright colors of a paint set.

"Would you like it?" John asked.

"I don't think I would be any good at it," Robbie said in a simple reply.

"What makes you say that?"

"Dallas Morgan was drawing in class the other day. He was very good. I tried but I didn't know what to draw." Robbie's face was blank, almost too contemplative for a child of such a young age. He had that look about him that unnerved some people; but John understood how the pressure of ceasing his dose and keeping him and his sister free from suspicion had aged him. With a trace amount of guilt he wished he could reverse time and return his son to the carefree time that youth should be.

"Maybe if you had something to paint with, you might get an idea," John suggested gently. He looked up at the vendor, "we'll take them."

For a short time no one knew how to make payment on their contraband. During the reign of the Tetragrammaton it had been easy. No one needed more than basic subsistence so everyone was given what they needed, socialism. There was talk of returning to the system of money; but thankfully things hadn't gone that far.

Government certified credits were given to everyone at the same rate, based on the time spent in their chosen profession. An hour credit took an hour of work to earn; and an item that had taken an hour to make would cost an hour credit.

John looked around, there was Lisa at another booth. Robbie gathered the paint set into his arms and followed as John went over to his youngest daughter.

"Daddy, can I get these?" she asked, holding up a bunch of colored balls.

"What do they do?" Robbie asked.

Lisa shrugged, "they're pretty." They were vibrantly colored and those things usually tended to draw Lisa in.

"You should get something that has a purpose," Robbie started to argue.

"Robbie," John quelled his son's argument, surprised at how naturally it came for how little practice he had at it. "Lisa can get whatever she wants." Lisa stuck her tongue out at Robbie. "But I'm only going to get you one thing." John always bought them one new toy at the park. "Are you sure this is what you want?" John asked. Lisa nodded.

They continued their walk and soon Robbie and Lisa were playing catch with the balls. John watched for a minute. Robbie had taken to growing out his hair and wearing it down, like his father who had stopped gelling it back. With his ginger complexion he was still very fair skinned; but to John Robbie looked at least a little less pale, with more freckles. Lisa was as vibrant as the flowers that dotted the park. She was a free spirit and John could only be happy that the pressure of hiding their secret had not aged her too irreversibly. Robbie had to try harder than children his age to be an irrational child. Every now and again John would see the struggle on his face as he tried to do the silly, nonsensical things that came naturally to children; but he was learning.

The two had made up some sort of game that only made sense to them and were trying to tag each other with the balls. Lisa threw one at Robbie, who dodged it magnificently, and her shot went wide and hit, in the calf, a woman running on the pathway next to the grass field. Robbie looked mortified; but Lisa went running towards the ball without a second thought.

The woman reached down to pick up the bright yellow ball.

Lisa came barreling towards her with two other balls clutched in her hands and slowed as she approached the woman. The woman, who John only saw from the back, bent down to Lisa's level and, though he couldn't hear, John saw Lisa mouth 'hello'. Robbie started over towards his sister protectively and John watched carefully as he walked towards them.

They exchanged a few words before the woman held out her hand and smiled. The woman's back was to John so he couldn't see her expression; but Lisa handed over the two other balls in her hands to the stranger with a confused look.

As Robbie skidded to a halt next to his sister the woman stood and threw the balls into the air and started to juggle them.

"Wow!" Lisa said with amazement in her voice. Robbie said nothing but stared in wonder. John was close enough to hear them now.

"Do you want to help me boy?" she asked, never taking her eyes from the moving balls.

"Do what?" Robbie asked.

"When I say to, I want you to catch the one I throw to you."

"Okay," Robbie said.

"And can you catch the other one?" asked the woman, meaning Lisa.

Lisa said yes.

"Okay ready?" she asked after a second. "Three…two…" she threw the balls a bit higher and slightly off course so that Robbie and Lisa could each catch them. Robbie's landed in his hand like it was nothing and Lisa clamped both hands over hers as though it might slip away. The third sailed over the woman's head and behind her back.

From John's vantage point he saw her catch the third in her hand, and palm it as she showed the children the backs of her hands, fingers extended. The woman reached behind Lisa's ear and held it between two fingers as she drew it in front of her face.


	2. Chapter 2

Ay! What's up? Here's a quick chapter 2.

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Lisa laughed and almost squealed in delight, which drew a few onlookers, customers of the caravans of contraband. Robbie was not quite so fooled; but he still asked eagerly, "can you juggle more than three?"

The woman laughed awkwardly, "maybe, it's been a long time." Robbie handed her two and Lisa the other two.

All the balls went into the air and Lisa stared entranced, with more than a few passersby pausing to watch, even a pair of Cleric. The woman had to dive more than once to catch a rogue ball and after five seconds they all fell to the ground. All three bent to pick them up as Robbie asked, "where did you learn to do that?"

"Oh I'm a connoisseur of dumb human tricks," the woman said good-naturedly, turning to find the purple ball and meeting John's boots instead.

She looked up at John, who held the purple ball in his hand, and stood.

"Did you see that Daddy?" Lisa asked excitedly.

"I did," John acknowledged.

"How did you learn that?" Robbie continued, insisting on an answer to his question. The woman turned to Robbie, handing him back the ball in her hand and shrugged.

"Copious amounts of spare time." She turned back to John.

"That's quite the skill," John said politely.

The woman laughed awkwardly, "not a skill, just a dumb trick I picked up. Are they yours?" she asked after a few seconds of silence, indicating Lisa and Robbie.

"Yes. I'm John," John extended his hand. The woman took it; but looked over his shoulder at a few of the people passing them by, causing a commotion.

John glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" shouted a man who looked to be in his thirties. He was yelling at the pair of Cleric who had passed him. Those who had been watching the side show, turned to see the cause of the yelling.

"I asked you if you remember Helen Smith!" the man yelled. John tensed as his hand fell from their shake. This could go badly. The Cleric had stayed on as the cities' peacekeepers; but old memories died hard and there were many people who remembered what the Cleric had done during Prozium's reign.

One of the Cleric sighed and approached the man. "Now calm down sir."

"No!" yelled the man, pulling a gun from inside his jacket and turning it on the Cleric.

A woman from the crowd screamed and everyone started to scatter. John lunged for his children. He shoved Lisa's hand into Robbie and said, "Robbie, run, take your sister back to the house."

No arguments or back talking, Robbie's response was, "yes John." He tightened his grip around Lisa's hand and started to pull her away.

John turned back to the man with the gun and his hand drifted to the one that he always kept on his person. John started to run, but not away from the fight exactly, he ran so he could come at the man with the gun from behind. No shots had been fired yet and if he could restrain the man then they could avoid bloodshed.

The two clerics spotted him and recognized him immediately; after all, he was Cleric Jonathon Preston. The closer of the pair put his hand up and spoke soothingly, "sir, there's no need to hurt anyone. Why don't you put down the gun?"

The maniac with the gun, shot into the air and there was another wave of screaming. The densely populated stands had been abandoned and people were taking cover where ever they could.

"No! Did he put down the gun?" the maniac jerked the gun at the cleric standing farther away and John, out of the man's peripheral started to run straight at him. "No! He killed her!" The man was close to tears; but John was only six yards now and closing.

"He killed her, and now I'm going to kill you both!" John reached the man just as another shot went off. He looped his arms around the man's neck, scissoring his right wrist in the crook of his left elbow and started to pull.

It was a choke meant to cut off blood flow to the brain. After three seconds without blood his brain would shut down and he would go unconscious. In a high risk situation however, three seconds was practically an eternity.

The gun went off six times and John couldn't see where the shots went. The Clerics were arming up, running towards them, John saw them in flashes.

The mayhem was deafening, people running everywhere, screaming. And all the while John pulled, forcing his muscles to keep him latched onto the flailing man.

Just like John knew he would, the man crumpled, dropped his gun and started to paw at John's arms with his fingernails. Half a second more and the man was unconscious and John let go.

With a giant sigh he rocked backwards and put his head in his hands.


End file.
